Silent tomb... and singing?

[tomcat]

Durgil pushed his back up on the wall of the tomb. He did not know what had hit him after he made his bowshot, only that moments after he had fired he was in agony on the ground. He looked at his armoured torso and could see a 'scorched' patch of clothing and mail, and could only wonder at how his flesh would look. Judging by the pain he felt, he was not sure he wanted to find out.

The young noble came back to his surroundings and he saw Dirnhael smash into the wight with both shield and sword; the latter coming down in four vicious blows. Then the other Elf, Seriand, joined in the melee and stabbed with his own weapon, the large shade reeling from the multiple attacks.

The greater Wight looked upon the Dúnadan that had him pinned to the wall and a rage filled its glowing eyes. Its mouth opened and it spoke in a distant voice,

"Foolish mortal! You shall spend your eternal days with us here in the cold hard earth, begging freedom from your rotting bones!"

Durgil saw his bow and sword a few feet from him, but was still overcome with the pain from the assault upon his person. He could not help his friends in combat, but perhaps he could aid those that had succumbed to the wight's dark magic. Durgil grabbed up his blade and moved as quickly as he could to his friend and the little girl.  "Edrahil... can you hear me?!"

The Sindarin Elf and the little child, Erin, did not stir, and their flesh felt as cold as the earth beneath them. Durgil began to fret, worried that they had come too late!

Not far away, Fengel had taken up with Nain and in a quick series of swings from Cerduil, the barrow-wight fell to the ground, death having returned to the old corpse. With this enemy disposed of, Nain and Fengel turned to the aid of Seriand and Dirnhael, the Dwarf making it before the Éothraim. But before the two could cover the distance across the crypt, the wight invoked more sorcery.

"Naugroth!" escaped the undead's throat and for a mere moment, paralyzing fear was felt by Seriand, the Dwarf, and the two Men. Only Seriand was succumbed by the foul spell and he felt his body go rigid, unable to move!

Yet, the magic had no effect on those others targeted and they all three smashed their weapons into the greater wight. Overwhelmed by the attacks, even though its armour and undead stamina protected it from the weapons, the creature soon fell to the floor of the crypt. It slowly crawled as if trying to escape, but then Cerduil stabbed down through its form and any 'life' that was within faded quickly away.

Silence fell on the tomb as the heroes calmed from the adrenaline rush that coursed them and Seriand was loosened from the sorcerous grip that had taken him. The need of their stricken companions came back to them and they ran to join Durgil over the pale forms of Edrahil and Erin; not far away sat the glowing evil knife of the barrow-wight. Fengel kicked the foul thing away from his companions as he knelt down. But naught that they did seemed to stir their friend and the company began to worry that it had all been in vain - that the dark spirits that lay under these old hills had brought ruin amongst them.

It was then that Seriand tilted his head... he heard muffled singing! The Elf turned towards the long earthen shaft that ran to the crypt's opening and could swear that he heard a gleeful voice. It was muffled, yet clear enough to hear even deep within the hill...

"Hey my merry-dols,
shed off your fearful woes,
come back into the light,
away from barrow-wights!

Don't go stirrin' up old bones,
leave well enough alone.
So don't be a'lolling,
Ol' Tom is calling!"

OOC: It doesn't take but a moment and then all of the characters can hear it.

[Palandil]

Unsure of this new voice, Fengel jumped up and prepared himself for combat once more.  But the voice brought comfort not fear.  Fengel cautiously walked closer towards the voice.

[sdrotar]

"Hey my merry-dols,
shed off your fearful woes,
come back into the light,
away from barrow-wights!

Don't go stirrin' up old bones,
leave well enough alone.
So don't be a'lolling,
Ol' Tom is calling!"

Dirnhael looked up briefly after he heard the odd tune. The person singing it was obviously deranged.
He looked back to Edrahil and Erin, and felt helpless and fear for their lives took him.

[GandalfOfBorg]

Something stirred within Durgil as the merry song lightened the burden upon his soul and that of his body, even if temporarily.  Forcing himself to his feet, he picks up the girl and heads for where the singing is coming from.  "Bring Edrahil," he says over his shoulder, "I believe the shadow has passed... at least for now.  Whomever is there knows we're here and maybe can help."

[sdrotar]

Something stirred within Durgil as the merry song lightened the burden upon his soul and that of his body, even if temporarily.  Forcing himself to his feet, he picks up the girl and heads for where the singing is coming from.  "Bring Edrahil," he says over his shoulder, "I believe the shadow has passed... at least for now.  Whomever is there knows we're here and maybe can help."

Durgil was right - the odd singer did know they were here... somehow.
While the song itself was oddly comforting, albeit bizarre, Dirnhael was still cautious.
He nodded to Durgil, but kept himself at the ready for anything.

[tomcat]

The companions collected Edrahil and the young girl and commenced down the earthen tunnel towards the exit. Of a sudden, sunlight broke through the plug that sealed the barrow and a great battered hat with a long blue feather appeared, then a jolly face looked up at them all. He had a long brown beard and a face that was red as a ripe apple that contained two bright blue eyes.

"Hey dol! Merry dol! Ring a dong dillo!
Ring a dong! Hop a long! Fa la la the willow!
Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!"

The man sang his gleeful tune and then laughed while popping his head out of the hole, making room for the Company to come forth from the barrow.

"Come out! Come out! No place for the living! Let bones sleep, and dark spirits creep, stay under sun who's warm and giving!"

Fengel was out first with the limp body of Erin draped across his arms and he saw before him what almost appeared a Dwarf, though taller than they. The smallish man was laughing and stomping about, all the while pointing at the ground saying,

"Go to sleep old bones! Get out you old Wight! Vansih in the sunlight!
Shrivel in the cold mist, while the wind goes wailing,
o'er mountains far away! Until the world is mended"

Fengel couldn't help but smile to himself at the site of the blue coated, yellow booted man dance. It seemed so nonsensical yet his heart quickly gave up the dread that it had held since they entered the dark tomb. The rest of the company came out into the sun and each experienced the same feelings as the Eothraim.

Seriand and Dirnhael laid the lifeless-seeming body of Edrahil on the green grasses that grew all about and Fengel quickly followed suit; behind them, Nain assisted the wounded Durgil out of the darkness. As they came out and laid their burdens down, Tom suddenly stopped singing and dancing and quickly walked over to the stricken.

"Oh my," he said, "Hey now my merry dols! It seems you've found some trouble!"

It was then that the companions saw Olin standing back from the barrow, a great look of concern upon his face for his young niece.

[Stefan]

At first the tune seemed very incongruous to their surroundings but the lyrics soon overcame the oddity.

"I'm not sure of the origin but the singer has the right of it.  Let's get out of this dank hole."

Helping Durgil as the others help the two former captives, he climbs through the hole out into the light.
When the man stops singing and speaks Nain responds as the others seem too warn for the task.

"Aye, the wights of this barrow don't take kindly to people.  Judging by your lyrics you know that, so maybe you should tell us who you be that comes to the tombs to sing?" 

[tomcat]

"Aye, the wights of this barrow don't take kindly to people. Judging by your lyrics you know that, so maybe you should tell us who you be that comes to the tombs to sing?"

The short man turned to the Dwarf and laughed, "Hey! Say! Didn't you hear... don't you yet know my name?" Then with a wink, "I am Tom... Tom Bombadil, and Olin here said you were in need and so Tom came."

Behind Tom Bombadil, the young rogue nodded his head to the words spoken, "Yes... when you said go get the townsfolk for help, I knew that Ol' Tom would be of more aid than they. Tom doesn't fear these mounds and I would bet to say he could spook off any spooks!"

Tom only laughed and said, "Tom is master of his land, yes that be, but careful still what you wager Olin, you're apt to get yourself in trouble! It seems you have already brought some to kin and friend." Then he turned more serious and looked at Edrahil and Erin, "Now, let's see what dark dreams have been laid over your fallen."

The Companions watched as Tom stood straight, took off his battered hat and raised a hand. He seemed to sing, or chant to himself...

"Wake now my merry folk! Wake and hear me calling!
Warm now be heart and limb! The cold stone is fallen;
Dark door is standing wide; dead hand is broken.
Night under Night is flown, and the gate is open!"

Watching him, Dirnhael felt something warm stir in his heart, as if the words of power were not meant for him, but he felt their effects still. To his right, Durgil breathed a slight sigh of relief as he felt the pain disperse from his side.

As the Dunadan stared at the small fellow, he began to see more in him than the laughable sprite he saw before. The face of Mithrandir came to Dirnhael, along with the ancient eyes of Elrond, but yet the form before him seemed as great if not greater than they. Who or what was Tom Bombadil? He had laughed and pranced and sang as a babbling brook over stones, or leaves dancing in the wind but within seemed a power hidden... hidden by the gaiety of life.

Everyone had stood listening as if in trance when the sound of a child crying brought them all back to the moment. Erin lay looking up at the sky wondering where she was - a nightmare having stolen her from her bed. Beside her, Edrahil raised himself up on his elbows and looked about; he had a terrible feeling of chill still lacing his body.

It was then that the others noticed that the wind had picked up and clouds had rolled in... and also the sun was setting in the late western sky. Tom spoke once more, his joyful tone back and a gleam in his eyes.

"Come along my friends, it be getting on to dusk and the barrow-hills are no place to be wanderin'. Come along... my Goldberry has laden the table with honey, breads, and fresh-churned butter, warm cakes and fruit from the vines! It's not far from here. Just follow my old Fatty Lumpkin here!"

With that, Tom hopped up on his small pony and started to trot off through the surrounding hills. The companions looked around to see that their own mounts had gathered and stood not too far away. Olin grabbed up Erin and started to run off towards Tom.

"Come on!" he shouted as he followed.

[GandalfOfBorg]

When the odd man (Was he a man?) finished singing, Durgil still labored some from his wound, but the stain of the darkness that caused it had vanished, not wholly, but enough to make it feel as though it were nothing more than a dark memory.

Sore in getting to his feet, he stretched a moment, collected his weapons, and joined the others in following Tom to his home.

[Stefan]

Normally Nain would have wanted more in the way of an interduction from a man wandering in such a place, his caution would have demanded it.  But Tom's demeanor and his songs put Nain at ease in a way that he could not explain.  He obviously didnt mean them harm, he could easily have left them to die in the barrow.  Also, the Breelander seemed to trust him and seemed to know him as a friend so Nain accepted him.

When Tom turned to leave Nain whistled and Jethro came trotting along from behind a cluster of bushes that had grown up in the vally between a couple of the barrows.  He seemed to have been eating but one go the feeling that he had been hiding. 

Nain clambered onto Jethro's back (with suprisingly little difficulty for a change) and Jethro quickly followed Fatty Lumpkin, nearly dropping Nain to the ground as he wasn't quite situated when the pony started out.

"Stop, ye danged mule.  I'll have turned into straps for me armor if ye don't let me sit before you start running off."

[tomcat]

Also, the other dwarf seemed to trust him and even a rogue dwarf was still a dwarf.

OOC: Hey Stefan, great post but it has caused a bit of confusion for me and I want to make sure I am interpreting Nain correctly for my future posts. The above quoted statement... what rogue dwarf? There are no other dwarves present.

Tom Bombadil is short for a man, but not quite a dwarf and heis a being of higher power (potentially Maia or Vala).

Olin, the other non-party character present is a rogue, but he is a man of Bree, albeit a young man in his early twenties.

Let me know what is meant so I know how Nain is viewing all of this.

Thanks! Doug

[Stefan]

OOC: Sorry, for some reason I was under the impression that Olin was a dwarf.  I'll edit.

[sdrotar]

Dirnhael followed along, in shock at what had happened.
This odd (very odd!) fellow sang a few songs, and wounds were healing, friends were awoken, and the very sky had cleared.
Bombadil was a force of nature, indeed. They were fortunate to have met his acquaintance - and fortunate that he was obviously a creature of the light...

[Palandil]

Fengel was glad to see Edrahil and young Erin return to them, the power this merry fellow had was strong indeed.  He knew that Edrahil and Erin needed time to heal and the comfort that Tom offered sure sounded better than Bree's.  Still Fengel wanted to get back to their journey.  "I guess a little more delay won't matter," he mumbled to himself.

[Wiseman]

Seriand felt the feeling returning to his weary limbs, the rigors of the past week...or had it merely felt like a week of battering and pain?  The pain and weariness had finally caught up to him and his body wanted to just lay down and give up, a feeling very foreign to an elf, especially Seriand.

The tune that carried through the fell wight's mound was invigorating to be sure, but it could only help his body and not his mind.  Seriand felt like an utter failure, not able to save Edrahil and the girl was downright depressing and as he moved closer to the voice he simply dropped to his knees and was overcome with grief and feelings of failure.  Silent tears feel from his beautiful face, their moisture soaking into the dry ground at his knees.